


Not That Kind of Fun

by whatabadchoice



Series: Tuesdays [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, hotel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 07:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11824389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabadchoice/pseuds/whatabadchoice
Summary: Thoughts of the day before his rut, the look of Mr. Smith sprawled on that bed, the notion that he probably used Castiel’s semen to…Castiel sighs and reaches down to massage the base of his cock, thrusting halfheartedly into the channel solely by instinct. The burning urge to fuck has somewhat passed, but Castiel is no saint.





	Not That Kind of Fun

**Author's Note:**

> HEY Y'ALL
> 
> Guess what I found?? A freaking computer. I am currently sitting in a library using a public computer to post... well... porn. Good. I'm glad my life has come to this.
> 
> I got a bunch of inboxes asking me to update and I have tried, SERIOUSLY, but it turns out hiking a 2650 mile long trail and writing fanfiction do not mix well. I know some of you probably read that little update I did (it was taken down because it was reported as non fanfiction... lol ok thanks moderators I guess) that explained why I haven't been updating but just in case you're a new reader (hi!!! thanks for reading!!!), I'm actually currently hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (yes like that Reese Witherspoon movie) which does not allow me a lot of time for writing, editing, or posting. Especially since about 3/4 of the time I have no reception or service on my phone, haha. 
> 
> ANYWAY I'm sure you don't care about all this, but whatever, too bad, that's just real life you already read these notes and there's no going back, SUCKA!
> 
> Um yeah. Gonna try to update a little more often? Maybe?? I'm not sure. I just passed the 1000 mile marker and I'm heading to Canada so I'll do my best.
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you again for reading and keeping up and still being patient about this story <3
> 
> I am forever grateful and y'all make me feel like a legit writer haha. 
> 
> Enjoy this. Sorry. It's a bit of a tease tbh. :P

JUNE 28TH

Castiel slumps back down on his mattress with a tired sigh.

Four days and he thinks this is probably the last of it. His ruts are usually short, barely even a bother and not really necessitating more than a day or two off. This time, though, the itch on the back of his neck is more like a hunger gnawing at the inside of him and the slick channel of a silicone toy has Castiel growling in frustration most of the time. He can’t pretend he doesn’t know why.

Still, he’d been responsible. The hotel allowed a week for heats and ruts, which was more generous than a lot of places, so Castiel had called in when he realized popping a knot in Mr. Smith’s bathroom was not just a one time occurrence. Grasping at the last vestiges of his self control, Castiel had also phoned his brother’s centre to let them know he would not be visiting. Samandriel generally understood the concept of ruts, seeing as he had them himself, but Castiel still insisted on talking to his brother before resigning himself to the mild torture that would be spending his rut alone.

Thoughts of the day before his rut, the look of Mr. Smith sprawled on that bed, the notion that he probably used Castiel’s semen to…

Castiel sighs and reaches down to massage the base of his cock, thrusting halfheartedly into the channel solely by instinct. The burning urge to fuck has somewhat passed, but Castiel is no saint.

Stretching back down onto his damp sheets, Castiel thumbs at his phone, barely looking at the time before pressing the green button. Now’s as good a time as any, it’s unlikely they’re asleep anyway.

“Cas,” comes Dr. Wesson’s voice in lieu of a greeting. Castiel has been calling at least every 6 hours to check on them. 

“How is he?” Castiel asks, for what feels like the thirtieth time. Even in the worst of his rut, he’d called Sam, buried in his fake channel and still half-growling from exertion. (The doctor had not appreciated his diligence quite as much then.) 

Even though the answers have been steadily getting better, Castiel still feels a spike of worry in the split seconds before Sam answers.

“Good,” Sam replies tiredly. “Better, anyway.” Castiel strains to hear any other noises on the other side of the line. “He just finished another round. He’s resting now.”

Castiel wants to ask stupid things. In the first few hours of his rut, he hadn’t even thought twice. _Did he use it? Did he_ like _it? Did he want more so he could fuck himself full of Castiel and his pups?_ The questions were outrageous and in the light of the end-of-rut-day; Castiel’s cheeks burn with the knowledge that he’d asked them. Out loud. To his unofficial family doctor. But Sam was understanding. He’d answered as neutrally as possible ( _Yes. Yes. From what he’s been saying, also yes. But we won’t need it I don’t think._ ) and remained steadfast in his calm demeanor. Castiel had been impressed. And ashamed. And guilty. Castiel had been and is a lot of things. 

Does Hallmark do thank you cards for “listened to me talk about a stranger’s slick for ten minutes while I fucked a toy”?

Regardless, now, Castiel is in his right mind. And even though the Alpha inside him wants to demand photographic proof of his mate’s safety, the _real_ Castiel knows that Mr. Smith and him aren’t mates. 

Sam takes his silence as an opportunity to offer more information, so Castiel is saved the trouble of figuring out how to ask an appropriate question anyway.

“He asks for you,” Sam continues. Castiel’s heart flips. “A lot.” 

Castiel doesn’t purr. 

“He’s safe. I haven’t had to sedate him. Your-- you definitely helped and I think it won’t be long now.”

“Good,” Castiel rumbles, his anxiety ebbing somewhat at the good news. The underlying itch of something missing doesn’t quite leave, but he’ll take what he can get.

“How are _you_?” Sam asks. Castiel sighs.

“Not to be crass, but I am fucking tired of fucking.”

Sam huffs a laugh and Castiel can imagine the man is wrinkling his nose. Despite his professionalism, Dr. Wesson is somewhat of a prude. It is… highly amusing.

“Is it winding down at all?” Sam asks, and Castiel is tempted to say something rude about his knot ever actually “winding down”.

“Ruts are coming slower now. I think this last one was it,” Castiel says, staring up at the ceiling. 

There’s a moment of silence.

“Oh my god!” Castiel exclaims. “You know, Dr. Wesson, I never-- I mean, I didn’t even think that--” Now that Castiel is thinking clearly, he remembers Nurse Moore and the centre and Dr. Wesson’s practice. And _oh God_ he hadn’t even given Sam staying at the hotel a second thought. “You must have had to miss work for this! I didn’t even think!”

“Don’t worry about it, Cas, I’m a doctor,” Sam says reassuringly. “These kinds of emergencies crop up all the time. That’s what I have a physician on call for. Dr. Fitzgerald is more than capable of handling things in my absence, so don’t sweat it. Besides,” Dr. Wesson pauses. “It’s been kind of fun, actually.” He laughs a little and Castiel is immediately tamping down a ridiculous sliver of jealousy. He must have growled or something because he can almost hear the eye roll that surely accompanies Sam’s sigh next. 

“Not that kind of fun, Castiel,” Sam says wearily. “But Dean is pretty funny. And a nice guy. I can see why you like him.”

Castiel would object-- _they barely know each other_ \-- but he doesn’t have the energy. And he _does_. God help him, he really does like Mr. Smith, Omega or not.

Castiel’s snapped out of his thoughts when he hears a faint whimper on the other line. 

“Ah, looks like my break time is up!” Sam says a moment later. Castiel grips the phone tightly. 

“He’s alright, Cas, really,” Sam says soothingly. Castiel bites his lip. “Thanks to you.”

“Well, call me if there’s anything I can do,” Castiel responds finally, trying to ignore the churning in his stomach at the thought of another Alpha witnessing his mate in heat. 

“You know what you _could_ do…”

“Other than that, Sam,” Castiel says tiredly. Dr. Wesson makes an exasperated noise.

“I’ll let you know,” he says and Castiel can almost hear the eyeroll. “See ya, Cas!”


End file.
